


so let's make things physical

by queerwatson



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerwatson/pseuds/queerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Watson, Sherlock Holmes, and Gwen Lestrade are a band. Mycroft manages and Molly takes care of the tech stuff. Jane really really likes touching Sherlock - they're tactile, that's not so weird. And hey, the crowd likes it too. What could be the problem? Well. Maybe Jane made it a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so let's make things physical

**Author's Note:**

> So like 25% of this is porn. Oops. And the band stuff gets glazed over a little, I don't know, just... lady musicians and tour bus sex and a little dash of plot to make it seem cool.

The bus in a heat wave was always a massive pain in the arse. Jane was lying on the couch in the back lounge, her tank top riding up. She hadn’t bothered with trousers, instead had just opted for a pair of boyshorts which didn’t cover much either. They couldn’t run the air conditioning all the time, because that cost money they didn’t always have - especially when Jane was just holding down the fort while Sherlock and Gwen went out to get food and ice and Molly and Mycroft were loading things into the venue.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour that Sherlock was gone, but by the time she got back it felt like it’d been closer to a day. Jane stretched and rolled onto her stomach, looking at her friend right side up. “Where’s Gwen?”

Sherlock rolled her eyes and took off her shirt, leaving her in nothing but a pair of shorts - not an uncommon occurrence.

“Talking to my sister. Supposedly about something related to our next show, but I find that highly unlikely.”

Jane laughed, turning to look up at ceiling again while Sherlock laid down on the floor next to her. “You think they’ll ever actually get over themselves?”

“Perhaps. Eventually.”

It sounded like there was something funny in Sherlock’s voice, but when Jane glanced over, her face was as blank as always.

“How long until sound check?”

“Only another hour or so.”

Nodding, Jane shifted against the leather of the shitty built in couch, and sighed. She liked playing shows and doing soundcheck and leaning against Sherlock’s shoulder while she played bass and Sherlock sang, but it was so hot today that she wasn’t entirely up for any of that. Even the physical contact.

“Think the venue’s any cooler?”

“Than the bus without air conditioning? Beyond a doubt. On the other hand, it probably won’t stay that way once it’s full of loud, sweaty, idiots.”

Though she couldn’t resist a smirk, Jane kicked Sherlock lightly in the side. “You really oughtn’t call our fans idiots.”

With a derisive snort, Sherlock elbowed her back in the shin. “Most of them are idiots. Just because they appreciate good music doesn’t make them intelligent.”

It was hard to argue with Sherlock even when she wasn’t right, so Jane just shrugged and let it drop. They wasted most of the rest of the time before they went into the venue talking about everything and nothing and the things somewhere in between.

They got there dressed and with their instruments just a couple of minutes late, which was really pretty good for Sherlock - and wherever Sherlock was or wasn’t, Jane was there, practically attached to her. Mycroft may have managed the band, but Jane managed Sherlock.

The mics got checked, then Gwen’s drums, Jane’s bass, and Sherlock’s violin. It was all pretty standard and Sherlock spent most of it leaning on Jane now that it was cooler. She obviously knew Jane would allow it.

Maybe it was strange that they were so tactile when they weren’t together. Maybe it wasn’t, considering how much time they spent alone with each other. Jane had stopped worrying about it in the past year or so, and she hadn’t looked back. Now it was just par for the course to put her forehead against Sherlock’s while they were onstage and smirk while the crowd screamed.

Sure, okay, sometimes when she was alone in her bunk, she touched herself and all she could think about was tracing her tongue along Sherlock’s collarbones and pressing up against her in a backstage dressing room, watching herself go down on Sherlock in the lighted mirror but... Well, that was her business. Sherlock didn’t seem to have much time for anyone at all, and the time she did have she gave at least partly to Jane, and that was enough.

That night the show went on as it always did. Song, song, break for some crowd interaction, couple more songs, solos for all of them... It was as familiar as Jane’s own hands or the freckles on Sherlock’s shoulders.

Pretty much every show, the last song was the same. There was a long break in vocals, and Sherlock spent part of it strutting around the stage and part of it either back to back or forehead to forehead with Jane.

This particular night, maybe she’d gotten heatstroke or maybe she was even more drunk than usual off the sounds of the crowd but whatever it was, when Sherlock went to pull away, Jane pressed a quick kiss against her lips. It wasn’t particularly romantic or sexual, but the crowd screamed, Sherlock turned away, and somehow, Jane just knew that she’d crossed a line.

She spent the rest of the song distracted, but it wasn’t a particularly difficult one, so it didn’t matter.

On the other hand, when she went offstage and roughly handed Molly her guitar, it felt like coming down off the caffeine high of four massive cans of energy drink. Or maybe just the worst hangover of her life. Either way, she was miserable and cranky and covered in sweat and deep down, she was bloody terrified. She didn’t see Sherlock before she went to hide in her bunk, and really she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

The next day, thank Christ, there wasn’t a show. It was, though, a hotel night, and that meant she’d be expected to share a room with Sherlock.

Jane carried her things in with caution, but she found the room was still empty. With a sigh that she had to admit was mostly relief, she fell back on the bed and let her eyes fall closed as she soaked in the air conditioning and how bloody nice it felt to be in a bed again.

When the door opened, she kept her eyes tightly closed, but she got a surprise when it was Gwen’s voice she heard. She sat up, one eyebrow raised.

Gwen sighed. “Sherlock asked if I’d switch with her. She’s staying with Molly.”

Though she opened her mouth, Jane just nodded and laid back down. Molly. What kind of choice was Molly? Molly came onto Sherlock all the time. Jane turned onto her side and tried not to think about it.

She dozed off much earlier then she meant to and woke up around 5:30. Blearily, she blinked into empty spaces of the dark room and soon went out into the hallways of the hotel, wandering until she found a way to the roof where she could have a smoke and watch the sun rise.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Sherlock showed up - and it didn’t, really.

“You’re never up this early.”

“I fell asleep early. Didn’t have anything else to do.”

Sherlock nodded and sat next to her, but there was a safe buffer zone of distance that had never been there before, and Jane felt like she might be sick.

“I managed an hour or two.”

That wasn’t bad for Sherlock. At least she’d tried. Jane said as much.

“Molly wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Jane tensed. “You’re the one who decided to share with her.”

“I know. It wasn’t a very well thought out decision.”

“Maybe next time stay with Gwen.”

If a little bit of harshness slid into her voice, Jane couldn’t be bothered to apologise, and instead she just kept her eyes on the steadily brightening horizon.

“Maybe, yes.”

Exhaling through her nose, she decided enough was enough, and no sunrise was worth all this. Jane stood, flicked her cigarette off the side of the hotel, and started back inside.

“Jane.”

Dammit. She stopped, even though she didn’t turn back around.

“Why?”

That was the last question she wanted to answer. She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was wrong. I’m going back inside now.”

Instead of just letting her go, Sherlock followed her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her around. “That’s not good enough. Who was it for?”

It was only worse now that she had to make eye contact with Sherlock. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What does that mean?”

“The crowd? A bet? Who was it for?”

“Me, mostly. It was selfish and stupid, and will you please, for the love of fucking Christ, let go of me now?”

There was silence for a moment. Sherlock tilted her head in consideration. “No.”

“What?”

“I said no, as in, no I will not let go of you.” Instead, Sherlock took her by the wrist and started dragging her back down the stairs.

“Sherlock, where are we going?”

Her friend didn’t say anything, but honestly Jane knew that whatever this was, it was better than being ignored - even if Sherlock was just taking her into the parking lot to hit her.

They didn’t stop in the parking lot, and instead they went all the way to the bus.

“It’s a thousand bloody degrees in here, what are we-”

Apparently this was the destination, as Sherlock shoved Jane into her bunk and climbed in half on top of her, turning on the fan she kept there.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I don’t even know what you’re doing, but I would rather know why you’re doing it first.”

“You told me why afterwards.”

“That’s not the same thing and you know it. That kiss could have been totally platonic.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Jane sighed. “No, it wasn’t.”

Instead of saying anything, Sherlock smirked and pressed close and kissed Jane much more thoroughly than Jane had kissed her onstage.

“You take a very long time to get a hint,” Sherlock whispered against the corner of her mouth.

With a firm nudge of her nose against Sherlock’s, Jane pulled back a little. “Since when were there hints? And why did you switch with Gwen? We could be doing this in a hotel room.”

“It was a snap decision. I thought it was a mere escalation of your ramping up the crowd and I didn’t trust myself sleeping in the same room with you platonically once I knew what your lips felt like.”

That was enough talking for Jane, and she licked her way into Sherlock’s mouth, hands edging up under her friend’s sleep shirt. It stayed that tame for a while - tasting each other, exploring skin in a way they hadn’t felt safe doing before, but it didn’t take long before Sherlock sat up as much as the bunk would allow and took off her shirt, helping Jane push hers up as well.

After they’d both shimmied out of their pants, they fell back into each other, breathing in the air the other breathed out, hips shifting just barely while they tried to find the right positioning and figure out exactly what they were going to do.

While trying to calculate just how plausible getting her mouth on Sherlock was or wasn’t, she looked up. There was a flush high across Sherlock’s cheekbones and all the way down to her chest, the curve of her breasts shifting just barely as she breathed. Her pupils were dilated, and there was a light sheen of sweat on her skin. Jane licked at her suprasternal notch just to taste the salt of it, and left her lips there, eyes closed as she committed to memory the sights and sounds of Sherlock, more beautiful than Jane had ever seen her.

Lowering herself down to put her weight on Jane, and pressing their bodies together from neck to hip, Sherlock made the decision for her, and parted Jane’s legs with ease. Her fingers only brushed teasingly at first, but when Jane nipped at her collarbone in a wordless plea for her to get on with it, Sherlock actually listened, and she moved her fingertips deliberately over Jane’s clit before pressing one finger inside of her.

Jane shivered, in spite of how overheated she was. Biting her lip, she shifted a hand from Sherlock’s waist to her hip, and traced over the crease at the top of her thigh before moving in between her legs and going straight to circle her clit. She and Sherlock had talked once about how they preferred to masturbate while they had split a few bottles of champagne, and Jane realized now that she had committed it to memory just in case.

She started slowly, recalling how Sherlock had flushed while she talked about how the build was almost as good as coming for her, but she got too distracted to remember anything else as Sherlock’s fingers sped up, and her thumb moved over Jane’s clit again.

At that point, she pressed her mouth against Sherlock’s, lips still parted in a moan, and her own hand sped up until their paces almost matched. It probably shouldn’t have surprised her, how good they were at this when they were so in sync on everything else, but it was one of the few thoughts that flickered through her mind before all she could fathom to think or say was _oh_ and _yes_ and _theretheretherepleasepleaseplease_ \- “Oh, Sherlock, fuck!”

The smug twat smirked against her lips, and Jane did her best to wipe it off, now having the focus to both kiss her senseless and speed up her fingers in just the right motion - even with Sherlock’s fingers still inside of her.

Soon she could feel the slim body on top of her tense up, and with a gasp Sherlock came, cunt pulsing against Jane’s fingers, and when she’d relaxed, Jane brought her fingers up to her lips and pulled them into her mouth to lick them clean.

Sherlock, flushed, kissed her until the taste was only a memory, and then for a few minutes, they laid there, bonelessly pressed together, her nose against the delicate hollow beneath Sherlock’s eye, and Sherlock’s lips just barely brushing her cheek.

Then Sherlock started to chuckle, and so did she. They smiled, and kissed, and kissed again. Once their laughter stopped, they rearranged into a more comfortable position, face to face on their sides, and tangled up with one another, they fell slowly back asleep.

When around noon Jane woke up to Gwen’s laughter and Mycroft’s disgusted complaints, she flipped both of them off, closed her bunk curtain again, and set an alarm for closer to soundcheck.

With a kiss pressed against Sherlock’s temple, she smiled, curled close again, and fell back asleep.


End file.
